


Your Eyes

by kaguya_yoru



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguya_yoru/pseuds/kaguya_yoru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron never noticed hands much before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on December 30, 2005.

Ron never noticed hands much before. His own hands always felt clumsy and awkward to him, especially when he was around cute girls like Lavender Brown or Padma Patil. Even when he was playing Quidditch, his hands never seemed to fit right in his heavy Keeper’s gloves, as if the role that Oliver Wood left him was too big for him to fill, as if he was just a poor imitation of the twins and Charlie. The only times when he felt sure of his hands were when he was near a chessboard. There, they miraculously became confident, always bringing his team to victory. Those were on rare occasions, however, so Ron strove to forget his hands and spent most of the time with them shoved in his pockets.

He couldn’t understand then why he found Hermione’s hands so fascinating. The way that they plucked ancient tomes off the Hogwarts library’s shelves with pinpoint accuracy shouldn’t be so enthralling. Surely, the way they turned the pages of numerous books with a sort of reverence and respect shouldn’t cause him to lose track of which part of the beetle should be used in a Shrinking Solution. They certainly shouldn’t be the cause of him adding the aardvark bile in the wrong order to his cauldron while preparing a Vanishing Potion because he was too busy noting the way Hermione’s hands caressed the ladle as she stirred her potion counterclockwise, counting softly under her breath as she did so. After the subsequent explosion and Snape’s reward of a detention, Ron swore to himself to pay less attention to the state of Hermione’s hands.

Ron hated his hair. Although he was proud to be a Weasley, it irked him that he blended in with the rest of his family. Sometimes he wished to stand out, to be noticed as Ron and not just another Weasley. Other times, he cursed his hair because, like a lighthouse guiding a ship home through the fog, its bright color guided everyone’s attention to him. For the twins, this was a useful feature whenever they were pulling yet another prank, but for Ron, it only gained everyone’s attention when he was doing something exceptionally foolish. He had thought about using Transfiguration to change his hair color, but always chickened out at the last moment.

Maybe that was why he found himself many times staring at Hermione’s hair. Rather than being just plain red, it was a gorgeous brown with honey streaks that caught the sunlight that streamed through the windows in the library and positively glowed (if she leaned over a book in just the right way). As she read, she liked to twist her hair up into a haphazard bun held in place by a single quill. There would always be one strand, however, that would fall into her face, obscuring her vision and causing her to brush it aside impatiently. Moments later, it would fall again. Some afternoons, Ron would find himself muttering excuses and hurrying from the library because his fingers itched to brush the strand away for her.

It was on one of these afternoons, as Hermione lifted curious eyes to follow Ron’s retreat from the library, when Ron realized that despite the inordinate amount of attention that he paid to her hands and hair, it was nothing compared to the amount of detail that he knew about Hermione’s eyes. He knew exactly the way they darkened in determination or sparked in defiance. He was all too familiar with how they flared in anger and he had noted the way they lit up when she smiled or laughed. He could close his eyes and picture how they sparkled while she absorbed knowledge from dusty books or the way they grew almost black with worry. Shaken, Ron decided to spend less time in the library altogether.

Ron kept faithfully to his promise to avoid the library, but Hermione’s eyes still haunted him. After all, Hermione was a Gryffindor and they were still friends, although their fights seemed to grow more frequent lately. Then came the day where Hermione’s eyes were no longer focused on just Ron (and Harry, of course). Suddenly, there was also McLaggen, the seventh year who Ron admittedly narrowly beat for the position of Keeper. Sure, Hermione had been smitten with Krum in their fourth year, but Ron had (partly) forgiven her since he was an International Quidditch star. However, this was a bloke from their own House! Ron threw himself into his relationship with Lavender, determined to forget all about the accusing gaze he felt whenever Hermione saw them together.

It was autumn when Ron gave up. Autumn had become Ron’s favorite season. Autumn meant Quidditch and it was the only time of the year when brown leaves mixed with red ones and looked perfect. Ron was outside taking a walk alone, when he saw Hermione walking ahead of him, her hair whipping around her face in the breeze. Ron hesitated and then ran to catch up. “Hermione, wait!”

Hermione turned around. He could see she was startled at first, but her eyes quickly hardened at the sight of Ron. “Yes?” she questioned when he was near. Ron and Hermione had had a bad fight a few days ago.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, a little out of breath. “I’m just…I’m sorry,” he finished lamely. Shifting a little on his feet, he met her gaze. “Look,” he began abruptly. “Lavender, she…she wasn’t…she – “

Hermione’s eyes softened. “I know,” she interrupted. Ron and Lavender had broken up a week before.

Ron began to smile, when a thought occurred to him. “What about McLaggen?” he asked gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hermione’s eyes appeared horror-filled before she answered quickly, “No! No, there’s nothing going on. Nothing,” she repeated firmly.

Ron grinned, but resisted the urge to boast. That was for another time. There was something much more important to do. “So…do you want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“Oh yes!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to get Harry away from Hogwarts lately. He’s just been working so hard and – “

“No!” Ron blurted out. Hermione looked confused. This was his last chance. “I…wanted to go with you to Hogsmeade,” he stammered. “Just you…and me.”

Hermione stood stock-still for a moment, her hands clasped at chin level. Her hair blew freely in the wind without a hat to weigh it down and the sun shone directly upon it, highlighting the honey-colored strands. Hermione’s eyes glowed and Ron was struck by just how lovely she looked in the autumn afternoon light. “I would like that very much,” she answered quietly.

Ron thought that he might spend more time in the library, after all.


End file.
